Fodder underfoot

I have no more music
To squeeze from stories long-relived.
Show me
Effervescence, amusement,
A never-drank tonic or nothing.

I’m done
Putting an ellipsis on insanity.
Yours or someone else’s.

I’ve met them all now —
The long-suffering ones
I’ve found too late…
The insufferable
I’ve known too long.

I guess, alone,
Here lies silence, repose.
The duller side of relief.
Unsolicited but taken.
A splitting a mere you can’t mend.

I can’t be consumed
By karmic trysts these days.
Venusian musings —
The varied synastry
Of self-hate.

What a waste of hurting
Just for word-ejaculate!
Looking as pointless
As you,
Lotharios, friends faked, all

Loitering there,
Like grinning fools,
That tried to tack up
The sides of my mouth
To match.

All idle thoughts, you,
I’ll trample you into draff —
Subdue you to not-matter
Fodder, underfoot,
That can’t even feel
My stomp.

Author note: I’m usually not a “this poem is about…” person, but this poem describes the unique feeling of finally eliminating certain people from your life. While it’s painful and a huge, hard-won milestone for you, you experience the deep-seated pain that comes with knowing they didn’t really notice their absence or reflect on why you’re longer willing to deal with them. Some rhymes are ugly on purpose.

© Maggie McCombs 2024. All Rights Reserved.